


Black Box

by taichara



Category: Solar Queen
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dane Thorson, Apprentice Cargo-master, is caught in a quandry; on a world of perpetual night, how do you initiate trade with people who can't seem to be found?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eliyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Чёрный ящик](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637992) by [Greenmusik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenmusik/pseuds/Greenmusik)



The sound of the tape signaling its imminent end jolted Dane out of his bemused reverie like a live wire dancing across his bare flesh. In truth he'd given barely half his attention to the report's contents -- at this stage he was fair certain he could recite the dry report, decades old and then some, by heart, he'd listened to it so many times. But there was nothing for it but to sit through the tapes again and again, looking for some scrap of information that had been overlooked.

He'd never been so frustrated since the Queen had picked up the Sargol contract, and he'd wager Van Rycke would agree with him. Even the salariki had at least made themselves known once the Queen had touched fins to the planet! Which was a damn sight more than they could say, so far, about their attempts to open trade on the border world civilization called Nuit.

Dane was not one to, under normal circumstances, question the decisions made by his superiors. And Captain Jellico had never steered his crew awry. And yet, here they were in the dark on a tiny world that barely deserved the name of 'planet', with nothing to show for it save endless lessons in frustration. Sighing inwardly, Dane started up the playback yet again.

It was an odd place all around, Nuit. Technically a moon, the conjunction of its orbit around its mother world and that world's circuit around the ruddy star that was its sun caused the small orb to barely receive two standard hours of daylight out of twenty; and yet the moon was cloaked in lush growths, in the main of a rich red-purple-black and midnight blue. More importantly it was dotted here and there with obviously artificial structures -- Nuit was clearly inhabited. And, once, those inhabitants had traded with offworlders ... the tapes held records of the thick dark furs, tipped with softly-glowing points of silvery blue; the woods, like black-etched moonlight; softly glowing pearl-like gems the size of a man's last thumb joint. The dark little worldlet contained lights that any Tradesman would offer dearly for, if only they would be found!

-*-

"They might all be gone, you know. A little world like this, it probably wouldn't take much to wipe a population out. War, disease, overzealous Eysies not thrilled with natives driving a hard bargain ..."

The sardonic expression that played across Rip Shannon's face perfectly matched Dane's mood. Once again, a foray groundside had turned up nothing -- despite what Jellico and Medic Tau both agreed were clear signs of recent activity near the cluster of domes the Queen roosted within comfortable reach of -- and the Captain and Van Rycke both were beginning to suspect the Queen had been cheated when it had picked up the rights to re-open trade with the moon.

Shaking his head, Dane followed Rip up the stairs into the belly of the Queen. The assistant Astrogator was already stowing his stunner and hand-light and Dane moved to follow suit; in Nuit's near-eternal nighttime carrying a light was vital, but there was no need aboard the well-lit free trader. But something prickled at the back of his mind and Dane hesitated, prompting a bark of laughter from Rip.

"Don't tell me you've gotten yourself so worked up about our missing locals that you need a night-light, Thorson --"

"No, that's not it."

Dane was too focused on that maddening prickle to toss a proper retort back at Shannon. Carrying a light was vital, without it one would get lost almost immediately in the riot of foliage or who only knew what else ... but what if ...

Promptly he re-holstered the stunner and shouldered the light -- which remained off.

"Rip, I'm going back out. I have an idea where our missing aliens might be. I need you to pass on a request to the Captain -- I need all the exterior lighting of the Queen to be doused. Portals covered too, if possible."

"What, you're going out lone in the pitch black out there? Are you insane?"

Dane shrugged.

"I guess I am, but better one of us than a handful of us. I'm not going far and I have a transmitter, I'll radio back every fifteen minutes. If this works we'll have our chance, and if not, well, I gave it the best I can. I think the answer's been so simple we were missing it right in front of our faces."

With that he was down the stairs and swinging towards the thin 'road' through the undergrowth, Rip swearing a blue streak behind him.

-*-

Three radio calls later, swallowed by the darkness all around him, Dane was beginning to feel more than a little squirrelly. He knew the comforting bulk of the Queen was back there, behind him; he knew, had carefully measured, the number of slow paces he'd taken down the narrow flagstone road he was following; the light, still extinguished, hung reassuringly from his shoulder. But it was still all too easy to feel very small indeed there in the dark --

\-- and then a chattering, reptilian roar erupted in his ears as a crushing weight battered him to the ground.

Spitting blood and a few choice curses Dane struggled against the muscular, scaly mass that pinned him to the road, feeling sharp claws digging into his flesh -- drawing yet more blood -- and the hot breath of gaping jaws hovering over his face, framed by two lines of pale glowing eyes, three and three pale scarlet points just above that rank breath. If he could just reach the light, or better, the stunner, there was a chance ...

A voice, low and clearly commanding, called out from the forest. Four more sets of eyeshine, four pairs, pale blue and golden-green and dark amber, winked into existence, followed by the hollow thud of steel striking flesh, another chattering roar, and the report of some primitive firearm. The roar echoed again, and then the darkness rushed in for real.

The last thing Dane was aware of was that same low voice muttering, in antiquated but clear Trade-tongue, that he was the luckiest fool alive.

-*-

"So it was the lights, then."

The Cargo-master’s bulk loomed over Dane where he lay gracelessly in his bunk, swaddled in bandages where he'd been scored by the reptilian's talons. Van Rycke's expression hovered somewhere between mild displeasure and greater curiosity, but there was a gleam in his eyes that hinted of some amount of unspoken approval. The observation buoyed Dane's otherwise flagging nerves a little, and he nodded.

"Both the hand-lights and -- especially and -- the Queen's lights, sir; the Nuitani are extremely sensitive to bright light. That's what the leader of that patrol -- Flare, he called himself -- explained while they were patching me up."

"Photophobia?"

Van Rycke sounded speculative; Dane shook his head.

"Actual photosensitivity. I saw the marks on one of the others, as much as I could see anything in the dim glows they brought with them. He looked like he'd taken a sunburn, and that was just from skulking around the Queen for less than a standard hour! They won't come up and out in the day hours at all, it's deadly to them, and if we want to trade we'll have to meet them on their terms.

"They're interested, right enough, but ..."

With an abrupt wave of one hand, Van Rycke dismissed any concern Dane was about to voice.

"We'll work around it. We'll dumb trade if we have to, leave out lots for them to pick and choose through and leave their own goods behind, but this is a breakthrough we'd be fools to pass up. Small wonder no one's seem them in decades!

"Get yourself patched back together; we've got work to do."


End file.
